American Thighs by Jill Conner Browne

was his and his alone; no doubt SHE very matter-of-factly and maturely asked him to shift his penis to one side so that she could give him the injection to numb the area. As he was relating this tale, I was thinking to myself that it was most humane and considerate of her not to just grab it herself and yank it to one side and jab him with the needle.
    Although, as it turned out, what she DID was even morepotentially damaging to his psyche. He’s got his limp little guy protectively in his hand and the nurse and her needle are looming large, he can scarcely breathe, and, I’m sure in an absolutely good-hearted attempt to soothe his fears, she says, “JUST A LITTLE PRICK…” To which he replies, “That is just not right—that’s just adding insult to injury.” It took her a moment to realize what she had just said to him and then it was a long, long time before either one of them could quit laughing. I haven’t quit just yet.
    On the very same day, though, a good friend of Jud’s was also going to visit a dermatologist. Now, what are the odds, I ask you, that TWO men who KNOW each other would be going for a “well-baby” checkup on the same day? I found that astonishing. Anyway, they ran into each other the day after their respective appointments and exchanged doctor stories—Jud’s, of course, got belly laughs—the friend’s experience was not so much fun. He was told that if his biopsy was normal, he’d get a card in the mail, and if it was not, he would get a phone call. He got a phone call. When he realized who was on the phone, friend said, “I HOPE you’re calling to tell me you’re out of cards!” and the answer was, “No, you have melanoma.”
    Now, the “good” news is that it was caught very, very early—BECAUSE HE WENT FOR A CHECKUP—and so his prognosis is excellent, but I hope what we ALL take away from this is that where your body is concerned—HIGH MAINTENANCE pays off.
    Asset-Preserving Tip
    Go for REGULAR checkups, you igmo. While it remains irrefutably true that Brown Fat DOES look way better than White Fat—melanoma does not look good in any color—so—use sunscreen, stay OUT of tanning beds, and you should know that self-tanner no longer smells funny, nor does it turn you orange, but you should also know that brown palms are not naturally occurring, no matter what your ethnicity—so don’t forget to WASH YOUR HANDS.
    4
Close Your Eyes and I’ll Kiss You
    O kay, y’all know that, in my opinion, if you are under the age of forty, you are Larva—I find it amazing that you have all your hands and feet, even—that is how very “early” I know (from experience, personal and painful) your development to be. So, not long ago, a little Larva Queen wrote to me, all excited about her recent purchase of what she referred to affectionately as a “sex lamp.”
    According to her, this lamp shed ju-u-u-ust the right amount of light on The Subject, which I took to mean her own nekkidity for the viewing purposes of some significant other(s). Oh, my, that did take me back down—a very steamy road.
    I can remember—very well, remarkably—the time in my life, so very long ago, when even broad daylight was no dampener for my ardor. I won’t go so far as to say that my fearlessness extended to include fluorescent lighting—no human female form can stand up (or lie down, as it were) to THAT—but the brightest natural or even incandescent light gave me no pause, no second thoughts, before stripping down for a little slip ’n’ slide.
    There was even a time, after I discovered the gym, that I would say I was possibly a bit on the brazen side regarding the illumination of it all. Nor was it necessary for me to consider the effects of gravity—either on my ability to perform in any position(s) or, more important, on the appearance of any